


Escapism

by kibblesnbits



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Escapism - Steven Universe Song, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Attack, Snow, So., Songfic, There's a line in here that implies he was attacked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibblesnbits/pseuds/kibblesnbits
Summary: They will heal, in time. For now, Quackity sits in the snow, the biting cold digging into his skin.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Niki | Nihachu
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	Escapism

**Author's Note:**

> [Escapism](https://open.spotify.com/track/6GT0EGXSMiS4s5X9v0EvfG?si=cKclDzocSg-B6WyOfU7uDA)

The moonlight is soft on his face as he stares into the sky, the stars that streak down matching the tears on his cheeks. Quackity sniffles, curling around his guitar ever so slightly as his wings follow suit. 

His wings-- he is once again reminded of their tattered state when he flexes them, wincing at the pain that shoots through his back and buries into his heart. They would heal, in time. 

In time. 

He pressed his fingers on the guitar strings, plucking out a slow and melodic tune. It was jumbled, but beautiful, ending in a mellow note that left him feeling a bit warmer than the cold that had nestled itself into his body, sitting next to the pain of his wings’ every move. Snow fell softly and silently around him, landing in a neat blanket over the landscape. 

The notes slowly smoothed out, and he plucked out a simple chord. 

“ _ I guess I have to face _ ,” his voice was croaking, biting out bitterly as his breath blended in with the frigid air. “ _ That in this awful place _ .”

He was trembling, but not from the winter air. He still felt it-- the swords against his feathers, the axe at the base of his wings,  _ the loud sizzling of a torch as they brought it closer- closer-- _

He exhaled, losing some of the tension in his shoulders. They were gone. He was safe. Shakily drawing in another breath, he continued. 

“ _ I shouldn't show a trace of doubt _ ,” his voice was slowly warming up, some of the cracking dissipating after a few notes. Still, it had the underlying thickness of sobs, threatening to break free once more. 

“ _ But it pulled against the grain _ ,” Quackity couldn’t remember where he learned this song. Was it from a friend? Some guy at a bonfire? His memory was fuzzy, a feeling not unlike fog settling in his mind. The memories were hazy, like if he tried to reach out and grab them-- just get a  _ glimpse  _ into what they were-- they would disappear.

His wings ached as he stared into the sky, strumming out the melancholy tune once more. (Oh, how he  _ longed _ to soar across the horizon like the shooting stars). 

“ _ I feel a little pain _ ,” he sang, though this was a bit choked, like he was hanging onto the words with almost bated breath. He stood, cold air rushing by him as he straightened his back and slowly-- painfully, stretched out his wings. The air stilled a bit afterwards, still lightly flowing. 

“ _ That I would rather do without _ ,” the air on his wings nearly  _ burned _ , and they tucked behind him methodically. Every movement hurt, every twitch, sway, flick-- it sent little jolts through his muscles. He hissed under his breath. “ _ I'd rather be… _ ”

“ _ Free-ee-ee _ ,” he spun, watching the stars above him twirl as he stared upwards. There weren’t any clouds in sight (and somehow that made it even worse). His voice broke halfway through the note, a new wave of tears bursting through as he continued. “ _ Free-ee-ee _ .”

Sobs fell freely from his mouth, but he pressed on. The chords were rushed-- but matched with his tone, he reasoned, voice regaining the croaky sound from before. “ _ Free-ee-ee _ .”

“ _ Free _ …” he fell to his knees, clutching his guitar close to his chest like a lifeline. The wood was cold, but felt almost warm as he trembled. 

_ I’d rather be _

There were footsteps behind him. Soft ones, crunching through the snow with the same sound a rabbit would make as it hopped through a field of grass. He turned, eyes red and puffy, and sniffled. 

“Oh- Quackity--” it was Niki, bundled in sweaters and wrapped with a hand-knit scarf. Worry was etched in every inch of her wind-chapped face. 

“Niki?” he choked out, nearly dropping his guitar. Niki felt safe. Niki was here, and Niki felt safe. 

“Come here,” she walked closer, taking the guitar gently out of his hands and placing it in its case. She turned back around, instantly making her way forward to engulf Quackity in a hug. She was warm. She was warm and she was here and she felt  _ safe _ . 

_ Free-ee-ee _

In her arms, he sobbed freely. His hands clutched her sweater like a lifeline. He dared not to let go, even as the snow fell and the wind bit his cheeks-- he didn’t want to let go. 

His wings trembled with each strangled breath he took, but even the pain was not enough to pull him away from the embrace. Niki felt safe (and he hadn’t felt that in a long while). 

_ Free-ee-ee _

“It’s alright,” she shushed him, patting his back softly, “it’s alright.”

Her hug felt so familiar, like someone Quackity used to know. However, the fog brought itself to the forefront of his mind once more, and he couldn’t reach it. Niki, however, was a present memory, so he decided to cling onto that before it disappeared into nothingness (or if it left him behind).

“You want to go back to the bakery?” she said, rubbing soothing circles into his back. He nodded, but only slightly, as he didn’t want to let go anytime soon--

(Was this why so many of his kind went South?)

_ Free… _

Niki pulled Quackity after her, gingerly picking up his guitar case and holding onto it with the hand that was not keeping the still-shaking Quackity grounded. 

With the soft glow of lantern lights, the two made their way through the forest towards town. The light made the snow twinkle, and the stars twinkled along with them. He felt a snowflake on his nose, along with a few others. 

_ Free-ee-ee _

The walk to town was short, Niki tugging Quackity along the moss-covered stone path as she made her way to a little shop right on the outside of the mass of buildings. There were little lights decorating the front, strung up with twine and with waxed flowers tied into a few strands. 

She brought him inside, settling him in a soft chair (he ignored how his wings screamed when he pressed them against his back, to sit into the soft and welcoming cushions). It was warm, like her, and she set his guitar next to him. 

“I’m going to get some cocoa, alright?” she waited for Quackity to nod, and smiled, before heading into the kitchen. 

_ Free-ee-ee _

Niki re-emerged from the little kitchen with two mugs of hot coca. One had whipped cream, with cinnamon sprinkled on top, and the other had marshmallows piled high. He gratefully accepted the marshmallow-filled cup, taking a sip. 

“So,” Niki started, taking a sip of her cup as well. “The song was very pretty.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled into the whipped cream, staring at his shoes. A part of him scolded himself for not wearing boots, especially in winter, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care. 

“And, well,” Niki said, “me and Eret were talking.”

_ Free… _

“About what?” he looked up, sniffling. His tears had long subsided, but the snot and puffy eyes had not. 

“There was a trader here, recently,” she said, continuing, “he had goods from the End. And, well--” she gestured to his wings, to his tattered and  _ ruined _ wings (they would heal in time. In time), “we figured…” 

“What?” he said, “just-- get this over with.”

Niki pursed her lips, reaching behind her chair and pulling out a package. She held it out to him, and he set his cocoa down to pick it up. 

The bow was a light blue, unravelling quickly as he slowly, but surely, opened the box. 

His breath stopped. 

For inside, was a pair of iridescent purple elytra, with a bundle of fireworks sat right beside it. He looked up at Niki, yet another wave of sobs threatening to break the dam. 

Without another word, he rushed forwards, wrapping her with his arms and burying his head into her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he sobbed, “thank you, thank you,  _ thank you _ .”

_ From here _

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this mainly because I just wanted to write. It's always something I do to calm myself down, and Escapism is such a pretty song. I tried to do it justice. 
> 
> Sometimes we all wish to escape, to go somewhere new. However, I have learned that sometimes, escape can be found in those you meet, and the friends you cherish. To Num's server, and Karen, and everyone I have had the pleasure to call my friend,
> 
> Thank you, truly.


End file.
